


Savior

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst Dean Winchester, Depression, Drinking, Exhaustion, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dabriel, because who better than to save Dean from all his grief and misery than the archangel himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Savior

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime around last Friday's episode, which btw I adored and cannot get out of my head. I'll probably be writing more on that episode. (Take note that I first uploaded this on 10-23-11)

Dean would give anything for sleep, he’d give every bottle of alcohol he had for just one hour, one blessed hour away from the guilt that leaves him panic-stricken and desperate to go crawl up into a corner and die. Regardless of Sam’s thoughts on the matter. 

The bed across from him is vacant, the only proof he needs that Sam has gone off running again, as if the morning isn’t enough for his freakish needs. He wants him here, maybe it won’t make a whole hell of a lot of difference, but just knowing that Sammy is here, merely a few feet away, that he had his back, just being given the choice to confess all his sins would calm him down instantly. 

But his little brother isn’t here, isn’t around to reassure him that he won’t finally break tonight. So he might as well stop dreaming for all the good it’s doing him. 

He retreats into the bathroom after popping open another bottle and starting his middle of the night chugging. He isn’t anywhere near drunk enough to think about what he’s starting to think about, to see the pathetic and evil sight that stares him down in the mirror. 

Sometimes he thinks he ought to be in hell, for all the good he’s doing down here. Everything and everyone dies around him, Sam suffers for him, he kills himself by how stupid and self-destructive he is. All he does is lie and drink and keep on pretending to both Sam and him that he’s ok, fine, peachy even, when the last thing he is, is all of those things. 

He’s dying, and while it may be agonizingly slow it still doesn’t change the fact that he’s drowning under all this guilt, all this booze, all these memories of people he could have, should have saved. 

Yeah, hell would be a better home for a guy like him. 

“And I’m sure you’re dying to go back there, aren’t you?”

He turns away from the figure in the mirror, sees a mirror image of the trickster, or Gabriel it would be now, staring back at him, looking more and more lifelike as each second presses on. 

Dean squints his eyes, the bottle nearly dropping from his hands, “What the fuck?”

“Language, Dean.”

He doesn’t know whether to fear for his life, find some sort of weapon as immediately as possible and gank this thing, or just stand here like an idiot and listen to what he has to say, not like he really cares what twisted words come out of his mouth. He still goes gunning for the latter though. 

“Who the hell are you?”

Gabriel sighs, looking Dean straight in the eye as he crosses his arms and leans against the doorway, “What do I look like? Your fairy godmother?”

Dean shakes his head and swallows a little nervously, convincing himself that Gabriel isn’t enjoying or feeding off his vulnerability. He doesn’t need that right now, not when he’s off his guard and a little tipsy from all the drops he’s put down his throat. 

“There’s no way.”

“Way, Deano. Here," he holds out his arm to the shocked beyond belief and untrusting human, "feel for yourself. Confirm your suspicions.”

Gabriel is taunting him and he doesn’t like it one bit. Despite his disbeliefs, he really has no doubt that Gabriel is actually here, in the flesh. No demon could portray him, they would have failed in the first few seconds, and not to mention that he’s positive Gabriel will feel real, that he won’t be sticking his hand through thin air. 

Don’t ask him how he knows, he just does. 

“What makes you think I would want to touch you?” His words don’t come out as cruel as he’d like, because he would really like to stand his ground, prove to Gabriel that he’s not off his game. 

But the archangel doesn’t seem like he’s about to attack him or beat him down or anything like that. Dean wonders why the hell he’s following his gut and trusting him, when the trickster should be the last person on his long list to trust. 

The sympathetic look in Gabriel’s eyes though, says that he’s not here to take advantage of the human’s weakness, of the fact that Sam isn’t here to back him up. He’s here to fill the emptiness in Dean’s life, to erase the guilt for however many minutes he can. It’s like Dean can almost read his mind, because he gains these things from him. These things that terrify him, make him feel soothed, lucky even. 

“Suit yourself," Gabriel walks back into the room, not bothering to turn around and see if Dean follows him, not that he doesn’t. 

_He died. I watched him die. I must be in hell now, I must have killed myself and he’s here, haunting me, making my life a living nightmare._

“Don’t think things that aren’t true, Dean.”

Dean closes his eyes, thinking it a possibility that he actually did fall asleep while basically praying for it. But when he opens them again, the only thing that stares back at him is Gabriel, those big amber eyes looking at him with something like pity. Wait a minute, pity?

“I’m dreaming," the lie lies thick on the human’s tongue as he nearly chokes on it. 

It sounds like a lie, coming from his mouth, and Gabriel already knows not to listen or take to heart what Dean says out loud, but rather his thoughts. 

“You just keep on telling yourself that, Deano.”

The annoying nickname seems a tad more affectionate now. He doesn’t hate it as much as he used to. 

Dean brings the bottle to his lips and starts chugging again, but soon the archangel is yanking the bottle out of his paws and shaking his head at a very confused but mostly pissed off Dean Winchester. 

“You," Gabriel threw the bottle and grinned as it slammed against the window, breaking the glass into a hundred tiny shards, "have been drinking too much.”

“Why the hell would you care?” Dean snarls, hating when anyone, even Sammy tells him what to do, takes notice of the drinking and tries to stop it. 

There’s nothing wrong with it if it helps to clear his head, suppress his tormenting thoughts, make him cope with all of the world’s problems. Cause him to look past his and Sammy’s extensive mass of problems. 

He’s thinking of going to the mini-fridge to grab another bottle of scotch but thinks better of it considering who exactly is in the room with him. Not exactly the most forgiving and compassionate soul. 

“Because, Deano, I don’t want to watch you drink yourself to death.”

Dean looks at him, just looks at him, struggling to get a clear read despite the impossibility, “And who would force you to watch?”

Gabriel’s eyes seem to penetrate the barriers of his very soul, “I can hear his screams as clearly as you can, his blood, the water filling every pore, as if it’s filling your own soul, dragging it down to the depths of the ocean, where they want to be, suffering with him because you blame yourself.”

_Castiel…_

The human feels everything around him still, the only thing he can see is Gabriel, the only thing he feels being his hands gently prying their way inside his mind, trying to find everything he holds within and tearing it away, so he never has to feel it again. But it’s not so simple, and by the look on his face the archangel knows this. 

But the thing is, Gabriel can’t possibly know what it feels like, he didn’t have the bond with Castiel as Dean did. He wasn’t standing there watching everything around him crash down as that thing taking control of the angel had plunged into the water, taking his precious vessel down with it. Never to be seen again. 

Gabriel walks up to him suddenly, and Dean looks down when they’re inches away from one another, “I have been watching you for months, Dean. And enough is enough.”

_And what exactly does he mean by that?_

“I mean that it’s time to start valuing yourself again. You’re much more worthy than you think you are, much more even than Sam. You’re just annoyingly blind to it.”

“Will you get out of my head?”

Gabriel shrugs, “I like being inside your head. There’s interesting things in there. Disturbing," the archangel adds, "but interesting enough.”

Dean glances around the room, hopes Sam will come back soon to confirm whether Gabriel is really here or not. He’s so sick and tired of seeing things, people, that once existed but are gone because of him. And only because of him. 

“I am here, Dean.”

He doesn’t hesitate, “And what do you want?”

“To save you.”

Dean scoffs at the innocent and completely truthful look on Gabriel’s face, he believes it, just doesn’t believe how stupid he is to want to save him, of all the people out there who clearly need it more than he does. If he were to save anybody it should be Sam. 

“Well, good luck with that, Gabriel. But the thing is that I don’t exactly desire to be saved.”

Gabriel shakes his head, his face displaying a cross between disgust and disappointment, “Much like with Castiel. But that’s his own fault, he didn’t try hard enough to save you. I, on the other hand, don’t give up quite so easily.”

“Oh do you?”

Dean feels like laughing, feels like walking away from Gabriel and seeing how strongly he reacts to that. But the look on the archangel’s face, the truth in every single one of those words, is enough to make him stand still, keep him in place, wonder why the hell Gabriel would choose him and not Sammy. 

“Because you’re the one dying here, Dean. Not your little brother.”

Dean clears his throat, “What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all." There’s an awkwardly long pause, "Except to see you back on your feet and well again.”

“Like you expect me to believe that.”

Gabriel pushes himself up a little and lays his lips on Dean’s, who is shocked and freaking out for a moment before melting into this unanticipated form of attention. And when Dean hears fireworks, feels fireworks erupt from somewhere deep within him, he knows that he’s okay with this, has always been okay with this. 

“Maybe there is a little extra something I want.”

Dean moans a little at how good his mouth tastes, of how perfect his lips feel on his own. And suddenly, he could care less what the archangel really wants, only hoping that this is it, that he can finally open up, doesn’t have to feel so alone anymore. Cause Gabriel knows all of his secrets, understands him and loves himself despite all the pain and regrets complete with the bitter taste of scotch in his mouth, rolling along his tongue. 

Gabriel loves him, he thinks, because this doesn’t feel like a one night thing, doesn’t feel like anything less than someone who genuinely wants to be with him, no matter how much emotional baggage he’s actually carrying. And Dean will be damned if he lets that slide, lets Gabriel slip away just within the reach of his fingertips when he really wanted him, all of him, all along. 

“Dean, stop thinking, you’re giving me a headache.”

The human laughs, moves his hand to the back of Gabriel’s head, pulling him closer as they kiss more deeply, exploring each other’s mouths, giving the archangel full entrance over every single thought he’s thinking. No more guilt for now, all want and need and lust and love. Only Gabriel.

“I love you too, Dean.”

And if only Sam could believe this. 

Scratch that. 

If only Dean could believe how this all came into being. 

But he would savor Gabriel piece by piece anyway.

**FIN**


End file.
